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Once I put my stuff down, I snap some photos of the place and send them to Nadine and Will. To Nadine, I compliment her on her choices and thank her for making sure I had a place I’d feel comfortable in. To Will, I want my boyfriend to see the nice place I’m staying at, stressing that he can come and spend some nights with me. He responds with how it would depend on his schedule. I’ve been with Will long enough to know that means no. If I want to see him, I’m going to have to go and see him in Charleston. He won’t be coming to me.

Lying back against the couch, I’m overcome with the reality that this is the first time I’ve ever been alone. All through college, I lived at home with Thomas and my mother. Now, as an adult with a job at my stepfather’s company, I’m still living on their property, where my mother can appear out of nowhere to comment on my life. At work, Thomas has only ever given me local jobs. So, for the first time, I am truly on my own in a city I don’t know.

The fear creeps in then, making me realize that if something were to happen, the people I’m closest to are two hours away, minimum. At nearly thirty, this is a feeling I should have experienced by now, but it’s all new to me. The eerie quiet, the reality that no one will appear at my front door unannounced. Part of me hates it, part of me is terrified of it.

But there’s another part of me, a bigger part, I think, that is loving it. Independence is something I’ve longed to have my whole life but have been denied time and time again. The realization of how big this chance is dawns on me. Not only am I proving myself from a work standpoint, but I’m also proving to my family that I can be on my own. I don’t have to have someone to depend on.

It’s scary, sure, but it’s more of a thrill than anything else, and I owe it to myself to take this opportunity for what it is.

December2023

The first thing I notice when I pull into the pool’s parking lot is that the building doesn’t look nearly as bad as I remember it being.

Last month, as Liam worked with the owners to finalize the plan and budget, he and I had done a walkthrough on our own. The inside was a chaotic mess, complete with an unpleasant odor that wasn’t residual chlorine. I hadn’t paid too much attention to the concrete exterior, tucked snuggly into a wooded area, too focused on what I’d find inside. Now, I’m beginning to think I let the inside taint the outside in my memory.

The second thing I notice is that someone else is already here. Just one car, though, not two. Then again, the owners could have driven here together.

I pull into one of the many empty parking spaces, but the one that leaves one between myself and the shiny black car. It’s nothing special, standard, and functional, but definitely new. And certainly not the flashy car I’d expect an Olympian to drive. As I cut my engine, the other driver exits his car.

And boy, is he tall. He stands well over six feet, with shoulders so broad I wonder how they even manage to fit in a car like that. He’s styled his dirty blond hair to be slightly disheveled. He’s dressed the way I expect a professional—or former professional—athlete to dress. In nice black joggers, sneakers, and a dark green, long-sleeved shirt that shows off his well-defined arms.

I glance down at my outfit, feeling a bit overdressed. My white T-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and gray blazer isn’t anything too special, but it’s more than I typically wear to a job site. Especially when considering I’m wearing makeup and my hair is done. I wanted to make a good impression, and impressions start with appearances.

Grabbing my stuff, I exit my car with a warm smile, ready to dazzle. “Hi there! I’m Katrina Dalton.”

Hi there? Internally, I cringe. I just made myself sound like either an old southern grandma or an overly chatty soccer mom. Neither of which I am. Clearly.

He takes a few of steps toward me to shake my outstretched hand, his smile more reserved than mine. “Bryce Clark, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Clark.” I glance around the parking lot. There’s still no one else here. “Is Mr. Abrams already inside, or is he joining us later?”

Bryce’s brow furrows. “No, he won’t be joining us at all. He’s training in Georgia. He told me he’d sent you an email months ago explaining this.”

I fight to keep the smile on my face. “Yes, I did receive that email. However, he also mentioned he’d be available should the need be pertinent. I expected he’d be here for this meeting.”

Bryce is shaking his head before I even finish my thought. “I apologize for any misunderstanding, but he and I both agreed this meeting isn’t one he needed to be involved in.”

“I’m sorry?” I question, trying not to sound as offended as I suddenly feel.

“That came out wrong. I’m sorry.” He goes to backpedal. “It’s just that we’ve already approved Liam’s plans, which was something he needed to be involved in. The season is about to kick off, and with his first meet next week, we both agreed he didn’t need to be here to go over a construction schedule. I figured you and I were more than capable of handling this, correct?”

Keep smiling, girl, I tell myself. “Absolutely! We should get started then.”

The layout of the building is a tad strange, at least to me, but it works for the purpose the property is serving. Structurally, there shouldn’t be anything major we have to change, and I’m grateful for that. It’s laid out like a large L with the indoor aspects taking up the larger side and the outdoor pool shooting out toward the back behind the lobby. The lobby leads into both pools and the locker rooms while the upstairs houses the offices and full gym. Overall, it didn’t feel like a complex project, it just has a lot of moving parts.

Which is why I wanted to have this meeting. It’s my chance to walk the property with the client and get their input on everything. The more questions I asked, the smoother the construction would go once we get started. What I wasn’t expecting was for Bryce to have just as many questions as me.

“I’m excited to get more natural light in here.” The indoor pool is dark and a little depressing. Liam’s design features more natural light and a wall of windows in the gym that’ll overlook the pool. “I think it’ll add a great element to this space.”

Although Bryce nods, he doesn’t look convinced. “Hopefully, the humidity won’t make it pointless. I like the idea, but I also don’t see the point in spending a bunch of time and money on something that doesn’t even matter.”

“What makes you think it wouldn’t matter? They won’t be fogged over all the time. I’m sure the people using the pool will find it wonderful.”

“Or it’ll blind them,” he argues. “It doesn’t matter which side of the pool the windows are on, the sun will directly hit them at least once a day. I want to make sure no one is blinded during meets—coaches or spectators.”

My frustration is growing by the minute with him. Will’s words from the last night at my place flutter to the front of my mind, reminding me this man doesn’t know how to be anything other than an athlete. He’s not thinking like a business owner who needs to consider the design of his building. He’s being cocky, acting like he knows more than me because he’s been to the Olympics. I can’t let him undermine my authority or knowledge at every turn.

“I understand your concern, but there’s not always going to be a meet here,” I point out with a tight, professional smile. “You need to think about all the people who will be using this space.”